


A Darker World Meets One Of Gold

by AnotherLoser



Series: Earth-5 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Codependency, M/M, Metahuman Mick Rory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLoser/pseuds/AnotherLoser
Summary: They came to this world with simple reasoning; curiosity and potential.-The first in the series for Earth-5, where Lisa Snart was never born, and much darker versions of Leonard Snart and Mick Rory are the ruthless crime kings of Central City.





	1. Chapter 1

They came to this world with simple reasoning; curiosity and potential.

Finding a portal to another world was interesting to anyone, especially with no idea what it was.  Hartley had a few theories, and Team Flash had been seen checking the thing out, so there was the lead.  Hartley compared his knowledge and ideas to records he got from the do-gooders after hacking their system - again.  No matter how they improve the security he always manages to get back in rather proudly as they essentially are training and testing his ability - and found it was honest to god a portal to another dimension.  The multiverse was real, who knew.  
Mick didn't care about the science.  He listened to it all, learned the basic lingo to explain it so he wasn't approaching blind but that was it.  The rambling part was pointless.  
Either way there was no way to know what was on the other side, and Len ate that shit up.

When the Flash appeared, that kid was Len's new hobby.  He wanted to know and understand and fuck with him.  They played cat and mouse games and at first he even tried to deny it despite how Mick could read him.  After the first time they were defeated by that sneaky son of a bitch there was no denying it.  Mick didn't honestly mind, he was happy to help, he just didn't like being lied to.  He knows Len better than anyone and vise versa, lying was just pointless.

They met in juvie.  Len was getting his ass kicked, which was fine and good and not Mick's business.  But then a shank was pulled and something about the skinny kid with fire in his eyes and shaking hands, well something about that must have reached Mick. He's already a killer himself, unable to control the urge that set two homes on fire- including his own. At that time he'd still been guilty. So much so that it was what got him locked up in the first place; running away from his uncle after the second house burned, terrified, only to be caught for stealing and vandalism on top of running away and so juvie it was.  
They got to know each other after that.  Neither were keen on sharing details, but things came out, pieces were put together and blanks filled in.  
The kid needed a friend pretty badly.  Not that Mick didn't, but he was used to being a loner already and wouldn't have mistaken help for an invitation.  Len made that mistake, but Mick didn't mind more than a day.  Len wasn't as soft as he might have seemed.  He was a tough kid with scars littering his body; broken bottles, hitting furniture corners when getting knocked down, cigarette burns.  He was abused and badly.  He also put up with people's shit in the way of snide comments under his breath to go unnoticed, and the best glares and eye rolls Mick has ever seen.  He was quiet but had the best attitude ever.

From there it was history.  They did their time, when they were both out they ran away together, Len helped Mick learn how to know when his impulses were coming on so he could have a better chance at control.  They used his survival knowledge and eagerness to be violent and put it together with Len's big brain and knowledge of the crime world they've been working together ever since.  Friends, partners, they had nothing in the world but each other- and eventually lots of money.

They didn't even do much with it but buy little safe houses and weapons as they went along.  Clothes, food, living space.  That was it, but they never consider retiring.  Instead, after years of moving around the city, and then around the country, they settle in Central and take over the crime there.  Their crews are expendable, any in their path are more so.  The competition will never be completely gone, and that's good because it would be boring otherwise.  They let competition rise just so they can tear it down, guns blazing and grins wide.

Leonard Snart and Mick Rory are the kings of crime in Central City.

Even that was starting to become routine though, so when the Flash arrived it was actually refreshing for them both.  
They weren't yet bored when the portal appeared.  How could they be?  New metas appear every day, they can fuck with the heroes at a distance, send out their own crew of Rogues on little missions just to watch the ants scatter if they want.  Work was never done and Central City could certainly be crazy without having to get involved.

And yet, here they are.  
Len tried to sell him on it further with the point that an alternate universe meant different things to steal, or things they've already stolen _here_ not yet touched _there_.  As appealing as the promise of money was, he would have gone anyway.  They'd follow each other anywhere, the both of them.  That's how it's always been, even with periods of time apart, even with all of their fighting, they were together right down to the end- and they had to be for this.  For all they knew jumping through that portal would tear them limb from limb.

Now they're here, and it turns out that this world was boring as shit.  Their alternate selves must have been equally so.  Maybe they grew up different.  Maybe something stopped them from being the killers that they were.  Who knew, but the point was Snart and Rory were still Captain Cold and Heatwave, but for one thing Mick apparently didn't have powers here, they were known but no longer with the same reputation, and they didn't seem to kill at all after the Flash showed up.  Mardon hardly bothered anyone after a few incidences, and there was no sign of Hartley causing trouble.  Their Rogues were fucking weak.

They're both bitter, but Len was eaten up with is curiosity for this new world and every one of those changes.  Mick listens to him rambling about it over breakfast; explaining that they were out of town when the particle accelerator blew and that was why Mick hadn't gotten his powers.  Hartley had been seen out to dinner with his family some time after being disowned, so apparently working things out with his family - and whatever the media didn't know about - worked wonders on his evil mind.  Shawna was no where to be seen after her first crime streak for that stupid boyfriend of hers.  James Jesse was still alive, but at least Axel was too.  The only good news is that they were right about some of their jobs not being pulled yet here, and the Flash was still around to make it extra interesting.

"Hope you got a good plan, boss, we've had a team for a while."  Mick points out through a mouthful of eggs.  
"Chew, Mick.  I hope you're not doubting my ability."  He drawls, dismissive to the concern.

And that's the end of that.  Mick knows Leonard's ability.  Knows it very well.

The media knows that he has a kill count.  They know he lets Mick kill(as if he were an attack dog on a leash).  They don't know how it really is.  Len can help reign Mick in, just as Mick did Len.  They were each other's balance.  Mick was the one that enjoyed destruction and at times, killing.  The public can assume what they want.  They don't know that Mick listened to details Len missed.  They don't know how they collaborate.  They don't know how Len is when Mick gets hurt.  They've never seen the look in his eyes when he pulls the trigger himself.  They've never seen when he scares Mick, or when Mick scares him.  They'll never hear of the lonely nights or haunting nightmares they comfort each other during, taking turns cooking breakfast in the morning, rough housing like kids again, cuddling on the couch, holding hands when anxiety spikes.  The world will never know of the worst, or the best.

Seeing the new obsession in Len's eyes, Mick wonders which one was on the way.

He decides to scope out the city up close, check out the spots they intent to steal from.  Mick goes to the first place with him but only so much of a museum tour interests him and after that he goes for lunch and a beer at Saints and Sinners.  Why not, right?  He's greeted with some fearsome and some welcoming expressions at his apparent return.  Another thing Len found out in his research is that their doppels have been missing for over a month now.  Mick likes this greeting.  He takes a seat at the bar and orders what he always does.  The bartender leans on the counter and asks if they're _back_ back.  
Mick shrugs and says, "Gonna head out again after not too long but we'll see after that."  Because it covers the case in which the doppels come back before or right after he and his Len take their leave.  That's about all he has to say and he gets his meal happily.

And then some pretty lady in a leather jacket comes up and smacks his arm.  "When were you going to tell me you were back?"  Right.  They hadn't planned much more to do when 'recognized' other than be vague and get out of there as soon as possible, just in case.  He's only halfway through his burger though.  
"Only got back today."  He doesn't know her, but he plays it casual and keeps eating.  
She's waiting for him to continue, looking at him expectantly.  He doesn't know what to say.

The woman huffs with annoyance, but a fond little smile pulls at her lips.  "If you're not going to talk to me can you at least tell me where Lenny is?  And that it wasn't horrible?"  He has no idea what she's talking about, or how the hell she got Snart to let her call him _Lenny_.  
"It was.. something.  He wanted to eat at home, I was kinda restless.  He's probably still there."  
"Uh huh.."  apparently he isn't behaving how the other Mick would.  Well, shit, but oh well.  That guy can deal with it when he's back.

[…]

It's when he's on his way to his temporary home that he finds out who she is.  
There was a library with public computers, as there often are somewhere in most towns and cities. Mick used it to search his and Len's doppelgangers. His has the same life on file as he does, no distinct variables besides the lack of effect on him by the particle accelerator. Len's however, he has a sister.

[...]

When Len returns, Mick is waiting, sat in the corner of the couch with one leg up and a book in his hands.  
Len looks him over briefly as he shut the door behind himself. "Where'd you get that?"  
"Stopped by a library on the way back. Needed a card to be able to look shit up anyway, figured why not."  
"You got a library card on another Earth." Len says with amusement obvious in his tone. Mick grins and nods, putting a paperclip between the pages as a marker before closing the book.

"Found out something 'bout your doppelganger." He starts as he sit up, eyes following his partner as the younger makes his way over to sit beside him with a curious expression. "He's got a little sister."  
A beat of silence passes before a thoughtful hum. "A sister, huh? And how's dear old dad doing?"  
"Dead now. The other you killed him earlier this year on a job together."  
Len snorts. "About time." His Len killed the old man years back. Mick had just turned thirty, Len wouldn't be far behind and he was still being haunted by his childhood. They've often solved their problems with death, and so Mick offered to kill the man for him, burn down his house, poison, or even get him arrested again and set up a hit within the walls through some of his connections. He wanted to help his partner get closure. He can be gentle with him, look at him with adoration, touch him with no more force than what one would use with a small glass statue, but for all the words of affirmation and careful touches there was always something holding Len back from truly accepting it all. A voice in the back of his head that belonged to a man who was supposed to teach him kindness and care in his youth and instead taught him how to steal and lie his way through life, taught him to be ashamed of his own reflection by scarring his body. Mick would have killed the bastard as soon as they got out of juvie if not for how Len didn't need to end up in foster care and Mick was - at that time - still ashamed to have taken any life. He hated him enough on principle all the same.

Len made some progress over the years, true, but he didn't have the closure he needed. It took until that year in adulthood that he finally accepted Mick's offer. By then they were both honing their skills, their teamwork, when to kill and when to scare, which jobs were for fun and which had further point behind them and how often to do each without creating a pattern to lead the cops to them. They started this when Len was seventeen. The first job was a month before his eighteenth birthday. They'd been doing well the past ten years in making names for themselves. It's a tricky thing to do; be known but not on record. They needed the crime world to know who they are, but the police had to be blind. By that ten year mark Len had been arrested once, Mick twice, and all it really did was teach them better ways to go about things. They hadn't been caught for what they were really doing but it was ideal to not be caught at all. They were making names for themselves- and yet Lewis Snart still had a hold on Len.

It took that point in their lives for him to agree to the man's death. He didn't want Mick to fix it for him though. No, Mick was just the muscle in this case especially. He took care of capture, and Len pulled the trigger. He never didn't like making a mess with blood, unlike Mick. Guns were one of the cleanest in terms of literal mess, behind drugging and strangulation but he wasn't a fan of those methods either.

"They really are softer here, aren't they?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The blood has arrived before the plot this chapter. Also I bet y'all thought this wasn't gonna go anywhere/be continued well GUESS AGAIN

The blade twisting in the man's leg makes a slight squelching- a sound drowned by his cries.  
Mick rises to his feet, releasing the knife in favor of grabbing hold of his victim's throat. "Shhhh..."

Leonard watches on the edge of his seat. Fascination gleams in his eyes, gaze locked onto his partner, trailing from his face to his hands and back again. They've done this a million times before and would another million more. The sight never tires; Mick's rare grace in handling weapons. Every ounce of focus poured into the task at hand, pupils growing as he sink further and further into the high of a kill.

The knife handle is taken again and jerked upwards, freeing the blade from it's place buried in the man's muscle. He screams. Sobs. Mick's hand tightens on his throat until he tries to reign himself in. The calloused palm slides up, forcing the other's head back as his fingers curl around his jaw and thumb presses just underneath the other side.

"He likes whines, not screams." Leonard drawls, the sound of his voice drawing a soft gasp from their captive. "And you don't want to make him unhappy, do you?"  
The man tries to shake his head. It was almost bullshit. The killers both knew that he wouldn't walk out alive. He had no chance at survival or else they would hide their faces. There was no need to completely alter their doppel's reputations, and on this Earth they weren't so cruel. It was a pity. No, there was no life for this man once Leonard and Mick had their hands on him. There was however the debate how much torture he would endure before his death. Irritating the captors would only make it take longer.

Mick hums thoughtfully before stepping his feet wider apart and moving forward. Straddling the man's thighs adds a pressure to the wound that draws a wine from his throat and puts a grin on Mick's face.

[...]

Three jobs since their arrival complete. As expected of their softer counterparts, the Mick Rory and Leonard Snart of this new Earth were not as accomplished in their own city. They had done a lot, still went on crime sprees across the country. It seemed that they even stuck around in a few others places as they made their names. They were good at it, but not enough to be in charge. They lacked the guts. Snart's apparent sister made him too weak to run a city's crime scene.

He wonders himself what that was like. What happened differently in their childhoods. What exactly about her presence changed him. Affection and loyalty were things Mick gave him, things they learned how to express and hold onto together. Perhaps Lisa beat him to the punch. He wonders in turn if that then changed their relationship as well.

The concept was something insulting, he has to admit. Mick had always been the only person that Leonard ever had. The only one he could count on. Life had been dismal before he came around.  
Lewis was a monster in human form- his impact on Leonard's life never completely leaving him even after the man's murder. No, treatment like that - not as gruesome as some stories, but violent and full of confusion for the child never knowing what was done right or why his father did the things he did- leaves scars. Wether from a broken bottle swinging or impossible standards forcing altered behaviors and habits. Mick is what, in the end, had gotten him through it all when he had been so close to the edge.

The idea that someone else could have filled those shoes was not one Leonard would have ever considered before. He didn't want to.

Mick was his world. What would their relationship be if someone else came first? Someone to protect and care for and lean on before they even met? The thought angers him, yet he can't quite place why that was the reaction to a theory of a life that isn't even his.

He might want to meet this young woman, in complete honesty, but he isn't prepared to pretend to be her real brother. That would take time, planning, stalking the man preferably but if he was out of town there was no way to do so. If Lisa was at all a good sister then the chances were that Leonard couldn't pull it off. Avoidance was the only option.

[...]

"I'm telling you guys, something's wrong here!"  
"Yeah no kidding, Cold and Heatwave are supposed to be someone else's problem still."  
Barry huffs in annoyance. "There wasn't a date put on that, and that isn't the point-"  
"Yeah I know. What do you want me to tell you, Barry? Maybe they finally gave up on playing nice. We still need to arrest them."

He wasn't wrong. Criminals weren't known for being loyal or truthful. Leonard and Mick were essentially famous, especially since they got their powered guns and subsequent nicknames. It was possible they simply changed their minds about the deal. Maybe something happened while they were with the Legends. Or maybe they had enough of playing nice with a team and needed to re-establish themselves. Whatever the reason, the end had to be the same. They had to be put behind bars.

”Something just feels wrong..”

”You’re telling me, their signatures are different.”  
Barry blinks, turning his gaze from the security footage to his friend. “What do you mean?”  
“Cold’s gun still has _a_ signature but it doesn’t match. It’s like it’s a different gun entirely..” Barry looks back to the footage. There wasn’t much of it before Mick blew the cameras up, and as usual it was blurry and tinted green. “Did you find anything at the crime scene?”  
“Nothing out of the ordinary for them."

"You're sure? Because the heat signature of Rory's gun isn't anywhere." He blinks, brows furrowed as he turns completely to look at Cisco and the other screen. The face he's met with answers him just fine, that Cisco knows just how ridiculous this sounds. "There was definitely fire, we know that but there's no trace of the gun. It's more like he started it with a match."  
"He shot it at the cameras-"  
"Yup." He nods. "With his hand. Either Heatwave suddenly woke up with meta powers, or this isn't our Heatwave at all."

Barry purses his lips. "Great. You thinking doppelgangers?"  
"It just might be. At least him if not both.”  
Alright.. so how do we catch people who aren’t afraid to kill and we can’t track?”  
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say now is the time having a detective as your family is pretty perfect. It’ll take some work to put together a system for Cold 2.0’s fun and it might not even work with their different frequencies.”

”Got it.”

[...]

Joe did most of the leg work. Barry wasn’t incapable of investigating on his own after years on the force and a few now as the Flash but a more trained eye for this specific job helped massively. They had to be fast to stop more casualties, after all. Trying to do things alone always took longer at the least, and Barry enjoyed working with Joe. The problem was that despite how his foster father did most of the leading here, Barry ran off without him in the end.

He’s come to the conclusion that he shouldn’t have. After all, Joe had a gun, Barry did not.

What he did have should be enough- his speed should be enough but he can admit that his shock canceled his abilities out.

When he got into the safe house he did so by creeping. Careful, stealthy, prepared to fight. Not prepared to see Leonard lovingly wiping blood off of Mick’s face with a damp hand-towel, praising him softly. It was intimate, sweet. Dare he say romantic if not for the knowledge that the blood couldn’t possibly be Mick’s own. Not with not even so much as a scratch seen on him.

And then he’d been spotted, poorly hidden by shadows and random crates to begin with. He thought it would have been Leonard, if either of them, but instead Mick glances over and in an instant he was on his feet, arm raised and fire shooting from his palm before he even stopped moving.

Barry ducks out of the way just fast enough for the blast to only hit his shoulder but not enough to dodge it altogether. Certainly not fast enough to see what was coming his way next when he stopped.  
With his free hand Mick had already thrown a knife that Barry all but runs into, the blade slicing into his other shoulder.

"Well well well.." Leonard drawls, walking casually over to a table to pick up his own weapon. Barry watches with wide eyes, gaze flickering between the men, face twisted in pain from both the mild burning and the knife lodged in his muscle. "Been wondering when our paths would cross." Another pair of eyes and a gun would definitely be helpful.


End file.
